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Wolves stalk the field while the sheep graze the valley. |
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Roles play out so simply, they both know the rules of the game. |
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They can get by with the time honored rights handed down from on high. |
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It's a plague of patience. |
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Caught between a stone pressed against fractured bone, |
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where we ought to heed solutions that spark hesitations which taught. |
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Wicked with worry, the lamb in a hurry gets caught. |
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Make towards the hills. |
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Flee for your lives. |
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Pay rapt attention and greet your demise. |
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Blood on the air meets blood on the ground, the fray opens wide with the chance we have found. |
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Teeth sink in flesh, good fortune to drink the blessings we won, and the prizes we keep. |
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Hurry too hard end up alone, how precious the seconds it takes to become lost. |
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(Can you hear the slaughter dear? The sound so close yet so unclear.) |
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Just because we steal points in time, we feel we can circumvent gained position. |
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Fight to calibrate plans we navigate forfeiting battles we've already won. |
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How precious the seconds it takes to become found. |
